White Stitches
by Momo Cicerone
Summary: Her brows arch in disbelief, a meaningful look thrown his way. "Jeez, Kudo. You don't have to put yourself between a bullet and me to prove that chivalry isn't dead yet." [Shinichi / Shiho] [ConAi]


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot. (If dcmk were mine the series would consist of 99.8% canon coai and 0.2% murder plot)

 **Prompt:** Ai at Conan's bedside after he's been shot / badly hurt. (I bent it because I much prefer writing aged up ShinShi)

 **A/N:** Coai romcoms are impossibly OOC so forgive me

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He wakes up to the faint smell of anesthetics in a room of blinding white: The walls, the bed sheets, the light on a bedside table and the shuffling curtains of creamy tulle. White upon white overlap before his eyes, disrupted only by the blurry shade of strawberry blonde standing over an open window.

Shinichi blinks at the dazzling light as a guttural sound manages to make it past his throat, dry as sandpaper. It burns with so much thirst that he's barely able to breathe, and the struggling makes a spot over his left chest numb with indescribable pain. He finds himself bedridden, limbs unresponsive of the simplest command.

The floor echoes footsteps that feel like a thousand miles away.

" _Kudo-kun?"_

.

He falls in and out of consciousness for an undefined period of time, waking up to strangled voices he can't recognize and falling back into darkness short after. Reality slips through his fingers in a mix of white shadows and cold metal dripping into his skin. He's aware of the sound, conscious of the pain, yet can't seem to associate it.

.

.

The third morning he truly recalls waking up in the same room, he's able to assess the damage: bullet to the upper chest, broken bones, significant blood loss— nothing unsalvageable, or so it seems.

.

When the girl pinned on the bedside window finally speaks to him, it's not the welcoming he hoped for.

"You," Shiho hisses at him, so livid her lips seem to quiver under her breath. Shinichi wonders how long she'd been holding it back, if she'd been silently waiting until he was well enough to snap at him. "…Are an absolute fucking _jackass_."

Reclined on his sickbed, the detective lets his mouth hang open with undisguised bewilderment.

"I— I didn't know you could actually curse." He blurts, frowning. "Total shocker."

The girl looks like she's about to strangle him with the IV tubing.

"And I didn't know you were a moron in every sense of the word, so I guess we're even."

She seems really cross for no apparent reason, and he really isn't in the mental nor physical state to deal with an angry partner.

"Cut it off already," He says, eyes shutting to repress what feels like the start of a headache. "I almost died saving us. _You're welcome_."

"I don't need you to _die_ for me." Her voice is strained as she inhales deeply in what appears to be an attempt to keep her tone even. When she speaks again, her words come out slow and clear, but nothing short of demanding. "I have told you before that I'm not a damsel in distress. So would you please stop trying to play hero and putting your life at risk when no one asked you to."

"I'm not trying to play hero!" he protests, unconvincingly. "I was being a gentleman."

Her brows arch in disbelief, a meaningful look thrown his way. "Jeez, Kudo. You don't have to put yourself between a bullet and me to prove that chivalry isn't dead yet."

"Had I _not_ put myself between a bullet and you," He argues back heatedly, incredulous of this woman's ungrateful attitude, "You would be the one who's dead."

"Then so be it!" She retorts defiantly.

"What the hell, Miyano?" He's so baffled he can barely manage a coherent thought, so words come out in the most ineloquent way ever, "What do you want me to do next time, stand there and watch you die? Are you crazy?"

"I'm just asking you to not put yourself in jeopardy for me anymore, what's so unconceivable about that?"

"That's a ridiculous question." Shinichi looks at her as if she's suddenly sprouted three heads. He concludes that she's lost it. All common sense and reasoning have finally escaped this woman's head. "I never thought you could curse and be ridiculous on the same conversation. Who are you?"

"You're being absurd."

He scoffs humorlessly. "Are you listening to yourself?"

"Incorrigible."

"Ludicrous."

"Idiot."

" _Stuuupid_."

"Fine." She concedes, adamant. Her arms cross tightly over her chest as she holds her chin high. "If you wanna die, go ahead: get yourself killed. Just don't do it because of me."

He shakes his head disapprovingly. Arguing with her proves to be a lost cause. "You're not making any sense. Why do you suddenly care so much about the circumstances in which I might or might not die?"

"Because it matters to me. And you have to stop doing this every time. Whatever kind of platonic rescue you're trying to pull out on me, it's making me feel like shit."

"Wait, _wait_ —" Shinichi's brows knit together with confusion, "What was that?"

Shiho's eyes shift towards the door, avoiding his gaze. Her teeth chew on the inside of her lips before she mumbles, "Nevermind."

"No, I'm trying to understand here why you're suddenly so mad at me." He objects, holding onto her words. "What do you mean with 'platonic rescue' anyway? Like, should it have come with a love confession first or something?"

She buries her face in her hands, mortified of the implications. " _Oh my God_. Shut up, Kudo!"

"Is that it, then?" Shinichi smirks, and she feels like punching the bastard's smug face and fleeing the room. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Curling her fists tightly, she takes a deep breath and manages to sound calm. "I'm leaving. Get well soon."

"Oi, don't go yet— _agh!_ " Pain rips through his chest at his sudden movement, but it effectively makes Shiho stop to look at him with concern.

"Are you okay?"

"No. I'm dying. Come back."

She lets out an exasperated sigh, yet gets closer to him. "You are the absolute worst."'

"So I've heard." Shinichi admits, holding his right hand open in an inviting gesture, which she looks at apprehensively. "Hand, please."

She scowls at him, offended. "I'm not your dog."

He seems to be debating whether to scowl back or cry in frustration. "I've been shot. Have some mercy, woman."

" _Fine_." Her fingers curl against his palm, and she notices how cold his hands are before he clutches them tightly.

"What you ask of me is impossible," He tells her softly, indigo pupils locking into jade. Any hope left withers down with his words, her chest tight with affliction. "I'm sorry but I can't let you die. Because I refuse to live in a world without you."

 _What._

"What?" she blinks at him, puzzled.

"I need you alive. Where you can be with me." He clears his throat, looking at her sheepishly and feeling his cheeks burn pink. "So this is what they call a love confession... If you must have one."

Shiho stares blankly at him for such a long time that he questions if he overestimated his chances of being reciprocated. "….and it would be nice if you said something back."

"No."

"I… _beg your pardon_?" The boy ventures. Funny how a bullet can miss, yet she shoots straight to his heart every time.

"No," She repeats, retrieving her hand back from his grasp. "This is definitely _not_ what they call a love confession. And you obviously hit yourself on the head, so I'm not having any of it. Not here, absolutely not now."

He waits for her to smile, for the reveal of a joke that never comes.

"Are you serious?"

"Very much."

"Unbelievable." He says, too tired to argue further. If he wasn't concerned of potentially hemorrhaging to his demise, he would have thrown his hands in the air. "I've been shot and rejected. All in the span of what, a week? How long have I been here?"

"Not rejected." She clarifies with a level of nonchalance he can only admire, due the circumstances. "Postponed and reassigned. So you can do it right next time."

"Gee. Thanks." He deadpans, bitter. "Should I bring flowers too?"

Shiho's lips curl as she pretends to consider the question, "That'd be highly advisable."

Shinichi laughs, his fingers seeking to intertwine with the warmth of her own. This time, she lets them linger.

"You truly are going to be the death of me, aren't you?"

Yet right now, that's an argument she isn't interested in winning.


End file.
